


Kuya?

by trashprincehamlet



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Canon Era, Multi, basically a Noli/Fili theory I thought of in Algebra oops, lots of headcanoning, major character death is sort of implied though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashprincehamlet/pseuds/trashprincehamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isagani leaves his childhood home in a village and heads to Manila in hopes of a better future. He befriends a fellow medical student, Basilio, and realizes he has a deeper connection with the boy than he first thought. This same bond will thrust him into dangerous waters, and the hazards are even more real when they decide to fight the abuses of a government with seemingly limitless power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kuya?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm an incoming high school junior in the Philippines, and I'm in love with Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. They're some of my favorite novels in Filipino, and I'm looking forward to studying them in the remaining years of high school. As I said in the tags, I dreamed this headcanon/fic up in Math class, and I decided to post it on here.

There is a road leading out of San Diego, and it is unpaved, muddy during the rains, dusty in the sun, and frightening at night. The _tulisanes,_ highwaymen, murderers, and all sorts of undesirables herein ply their trade.

On a night such as this, one October, a boy lay upon that very road, terribly wounded, but still breathing and alive. How he had not come to further harm was, and forever will be, a mystery. Perhaps all the horrible passers-by of this way saw the Christ-child in him, and did not deign to hurt this innocent.

Ah, the little angel was now waking up. He rubbed the consciousness back into his eyes, brushed the dirt off his _camisa,_ and looked about.

The boy knew not the name of this place even if he had grown up in the area, why he was there, or even his own name, despite having been brought into the world seven or eight years ago. He had only a vague memory of a woman’s tender but miserable expression, another boy’s smile as they rang the church bells together, and a Spanish voice calling him a thief.

\--

_If only I had taken it seriously when she told me my son was sick…if only I hadn’t gone off to Manila…if only I’d put my own needs first for once…I! A doctor!...Maybe, just maybe…I could have saved Isagani…_

Dr. Florentino walked by the lonely road, on the way home. He had gone to visit his son Isagani’s grave for All Saints, and he hadn’t expected this to be their reunion. Dr. Florentino worked at a Manila hospital, and he only came back to San Diego every Sunday. He was used to putting patients before himself, and had more than once attended to the sick while he was sick himself.  An outbreak of cholera was at work in San Diego and had claimed his son, but the doctor brushed it off, believing it to be a simple fever. Now, Isagani was gone, and he was beside himself with grief.

As he walked along the road, the doctor saw a heap on the road. Moving closer, he saw it was a child. The boy appeared the same age as his dead son, and looked quite similar, too. As he began to wake, the doctor took the child in his arms, believing God had sent him the boy to care for in place of Isagani.

\--

“Papa, do I really have to go?”

“I’m afraid so, Isagani. Don’t you worry. I’m sending you to my brother, a priest who serves in the city where I used to work. He is a good man, and will care for you as I have these past few years. Perhaps he can even send you to school in June, or teach you himself, so you can get a good job and be happy when you grow up. Once in a while, you can visit me here in the village.”

Dr. Florentino had taken the roadside boy home. The pair had grown close, and seemed to really be bound by ties of blood. One thing, however, remained uneasy between them. Every time Isagani’s past came up, the doctor grew unnerved.

“You’re not my father?”

“No, child.”

“Then who are my parents?”

The conversation always stopped at this point. But today, Dr. Florentino stopped Isagani as the boy boarded the _kalesa_.

“Sir?”

“Yes, son?”

“Why are you keeping me here so long?”

“I have something to tell you.”

The doctor cleared his throat and began his story. “Isagani, I found you, several years ago. You were by the roadside, and you were wounded, you didn’t know who you were or where your family was. I pitied you, and I named you for my own dead son.”

Isagani was surprised. “So…you really don’t know who my parents are? They could be alive somewhere?”

Dr. Florentino nodded gravely. “It is a possibility, my child. But whoever they are, you must have been left on the road for a good reason. Perhaps they were too poor to care for you and abandoned you in the hopes a kind stranger would take you in, burdensome though it was. They may also have been abusive and you would have suffered further torment had you stayed with them. Worry not, Isagani. The past is the past, and digging it up will only cause you further grief. I assure you that if God wills it, you shall find them again one day.”

Isagani could not believe his ears. For a moment he was tempted to ask if the aged doctor was playing a trick on him, as he had done on All Saints’ Day, keeping the boy entertained with pranks and ghost stories at bedtime. But Dr. Florentino’s expression did not jest.

Isagani looked at the little house where he had spent the past years, at the village maidens bringing vegetables to the _palengke_ , and to his guardian, the closest he’d ever had to a father. It would be a long time before he saw these sights again.

Dr. Florentino kissed him on the forehead and embraced him briefly. Isagani leaned back in the _kalesa_ ’s seat, and waved goodbye as every clip-clop of the horse’s wheels brought him closer to his new home.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Explanations about the italicized words:
> 
> tulisanes = bandits
> 
> kalesa = horse-drawn mode of transportation popular in my country in the 19th century. It's still used as a tourist attraction in the cities, and, sometimes, as actual transportation in the rural areas. Similar to an open-air carriage.
> 
> palengke = public market
> 
> Comments are appreciated! Please tell me if there's something I should improve on or keep on doing, I love constructive criticism.
> 
> Bye~!


End file.
